Magic and Mischief
by LadyKailitha
Summary: Sherlock Holmes comes to Hogwarts. Set between the intervening years between The Marauders' years and Harry's. Snape is a first year professor. Children are going missing and it's up to Sherlock and his new friends Molly and John to solve it before tragedy strikes.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Thanks to the super lovely old ping-hai (who is my brand new beta) for going through this and making it better. If you read the old version there isn't much of a change, just fixing grammar and punctuation. And a timeline tweak here and there but nothing major. Nothing you'd notice right away.**

Sherlock looked up at the sign that said Platform 9 3/4 and then down at his his oversized robes. Madam Malkin said that he would grow into them by the end of the year but he didn't believe it. He was so small. He feared he would never reach Mycroft's height. At fifteen his brother was 6'2'' and had the stature to match. Sherlock ran his hands through his dark curly locks.

He looked up at his brother. Mycroft was preening at the Prefect badge on his chest. Their parents were ecstatic. Their son the Prefect. It really didn't matter what Sherlock did, his clever brother had done it first. His family was an old one that had been in Slytherin for generations and they expected the young lad to join them.

Sherlock clenched his fists together under his long robes. He didn't understand about the pure-blood mania. He had met a muggle once when he had gotten lost while they were on vacation. He had been kind and showed him how to get back to his parents. Along the way he had seen the marvels that the muggles had done without the use of magic. It was almost miraculous.

He looked around at the milling students. He could tell the first years from everyone else; they were the nervous ones. The ones constantly checking to make sure they had everything. The chittering about which House they would be in, what classes they were looking forward to.

He could also see the sideward glances his direction and knew that like the people in his village back home, they would treat him like dirt. Even with big brother watching over him.

He sighed and resigned himself to a lonely seven years at Hogwarts.

* * *

John shifted nervously under the glare of his older sister. He knew she thought he was special. But he wanted to be normal like her. To just go to the cinema and have a laugh and not worry about blowing it up. Like he did when he was five. He would always be separated from his family now and it burned like a fire in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't as though he didn't have friends at Hogwarts. He did. He was the best Seeker his House had seen in years and had friends on the team.

But he craved something else. Something he couldn't name. He sighed fitfully as his mother played with his tie.

"It's fine, mum," he muttered. And she pat his shoulder and sent him on his way to the train.

Gail and Kat were waiting for him.

"Hey mate, how was your summer?" Kat drawled. Kat was one of their beaters. He was a hard-looking fellow with the face of a troll. Massive and built like a Mack truck. And an absolute teddy bear. Wanted to go into training magical creatures for the Ministry. And he had somehow conned John into taking Care of Magical creatures with him.

Gail was their Keeper. She was long and lean with legs that seemed to go on forever. She had black hair and eyes with a heart-shaped face. And for the first time, John blushed when she smiled at him.

"Oh it was lovely, my sister spent the whole time trying to get me angry enough to blow something up."

"You didn't go anywhere?" Gail asked. Her family spent the summer in France and Kat spent his in Romania with dragons.

"No. Couldn't afford it this year. Me dad got cut from the hospital." John looked down at his hands.

"That's too bad, mate. Maybe next year." Kat pounded on his shoulder. John looked out the window and saw the most interesting boy. His dark-haired parents were congratulating the older boy while ignoring him. His clothes were too big for him and his brow was furrowed in anger. The boy must have sensed John's gaze, for he looked up and John saw that he had the most startling set of blue eyes he'd ever seen.

Their eyes met for a moment and then the other boy looked to his parents. He said something to them and suddenly they were kissing the boys goodbye. John looked down at his watch and realized that it was nearly eleven the train would be leaving soon. How had the boy known without looking at the time?

John was intrigued.

* * *

Sherlock got into the boat with a shy, mousy-looking girl and blond boy who was already taller than Sherlock by a few good inches. He sighed to himself and wished he was taller, even if it was just a couple inches.

They were herded into the Great Hall, to front, where there was a stool and the oldest hat Sherlock had ever seen. He jumped with the rest of them as it came to life.

With a humph, the hat introduced himself and gave his little song. Sherlock stared entranced and decided he didn't want to be in Slytherin, thanks. Ravenclaw seemed the best for him. He wasn't brave and loyal like the Gryffindors. Nor stout and true like the Hufflepuffs. And while he was clever and devious, he liked the wit and learning of the brilliant Ravenclaws.

They got to him and he walked up to the chair and sat down. The hat hummed and hawed a bit and then called out, "Ravenclaw!" Sherlock was surprised. He hadn't even tried to contest its decision. But he was pleased. He had gotten what he wanted. He looked over at his brother and saw the scowl etched like marble.

He smiled smugly. At least his accomplishments would be his now and not something his brother did before.

The next one was the mousy girl he'd shared his boat with.

"Molly Hooper!" She came up to the stage and the hat barely touched her ears when it called out.

"Ravenclaw!"

She skipped over to his table and smiled warmly at him. He wondered what the Sorting Hat saw in her that made it abundantly clear she was in his House.

A few more skipped by and he didn't care until they reached his other boat-mate.

"Sebastian Moran!"

"Slytherin!" it answered. That was interesting, Sherlock would have put him in Gryffindor but the Hat had put him elsewhere. Maybe it wasn't all about brawn after all.

* * *

John watched the first years carefully, looking for the boy he'd seen at Platform 9 3/4. For he must have been a first year, surely John would have remembered a boy like that had he been at Hogwarts before. He waited intently as name after name was called. Until finally it was called.

"Sherlock Holmes!"

And the blue-eyed boy walked carefully to the stage, where he sat. John waited and hoped that this wonder would be put into his House but he was disappointed when it finally called out Ravenclaw.

He watched as Sherlock sneered at his older brother on his way to his new House and he got the impression that they got along no better than he and Harry.

All through dinner he kept his eye on Sherlock. The boy seemed separate from the others. Every time he opened his mouth it seemed that the others would either ignore him or hiss at him. The only one that seemed to hang on his every word was the mousy girl, Mary, Maggie, something like that. It was clear she was smitten with him.

And even though John was straight, he could see why. Put those dark curls and piercing blue eyes on a girl and every boy within howling distance would be baying at the moon. He chuckled into his pudding.

The other years were dismissed to the dorms and John was forced to give up his vigil of the lonely boy.

"Uh-oh," Gail said nudging Kat in the ribs. "Looks like Johnny here has his new pet project for the year."

"Oi!" John said as he gently pushed her to the side. "I don't have pet projects. I just like helping people."

"Well, you always single out one kid that you think will be bullied and you stick your neck out for them. Look where it got you last year. That Collins kid, he went mad. And you were put in detention for trying to beat the brains out the boy that cursed him."

John laughed. "I don't think this one is mad." John cocked his head to the side. "Well… maybe not mad like _that_." They joined in the laughter and they went up to their rooms.

* * *

Sherlock knew he was being watched the whole time but couldn't understand the older boy's interest. He didn't seem like he was looking down on Sherlock and it certainly wasn't sexual. The boy was clearly smitten with the leggy, raven-haired girl seated next to him. Too bad she was already shagging the red-headed troll seated across from them.

The boy that was watching him was small and tightly built. He had blond hair, not like the golden color of his boat mate. It was more the color of dried wheat. His eyes were dark blue but when the light hit them just right they seemed more brown than blue.

The other children ignored Sherlock when he told them about what they had on the train, who was snogging whom and which brought a cat, a rat, or an owl. Sometimes they would hiss "Piss off!" when he got too close to the mark.

He sighed and asked the Prefect if it was allowed that he could send his parents an owl. And got told it could wait until morning. He sighed fitfully. If he waited then Mycroft would tell them first and then they'd be angry with him. There was no help for it. He'd have to sneak out.

He memorized which staircases moved and when. He memorized the twists and turns the castle made and planned his outing for the evening. The boys in his dorm were all dull. He was a bit disappointed in the lot. He hoped that in Ravenclaw he would meet like-minded folk but they were stupid as the rest.

He laid back on his bed and stared up his pale blue canape of his four poster bed. He waited until he could hear their snoring before he slipped out and back down the Tower and across to the owlery. He had written his note to his parents before sneaking out. He took the fastest owl he could find and gave the damn thing a treat to take his letter.

It turned out he shouldn't have bothered. Mycroft had used the owlery on his nightly turn of the castle as prefect to send a message to their parents, so waiting for him when he got to breakfast was a bright red letter. He sighed and opened it and held his face away from the screeching voice of his mother.

**"HOW DARE YOU? HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY BE IN RAVENCLAW? YOUR FATHER AND I ARE SEVERELY DISAPPOINTED IN YOU! DON'T EVEN _THINK_ ABOUT COMING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS!"**

And then it tore itself to shreds and Sherlock ran out of the Hall and straight into the chest of the blond boy that had been watching him the night before.

* * *

John was running a little late because he couldn't find his History of Magic book, which turned out to be buried under his quidditch kit. He was about to enter the hall when heard the howler. He peeked in and saw it was the boy from the platform. His heart went out to him at the last line but as he opened the door he collided with the object of the letter.

"Oomph!" John grunted as they fell into a tumble to the floor. The dark haired boy struggled to get up but John caught sight of the tears and grabbed his arm.

"Are you alright?" John asked as the boy struggled against his grasp.

"Leave me alone."

"Come on, don't be like that," John pleaded.

"No one cares what happens to me."

"Well, maybe we can change that; I'm John. John Watson."

"Sherlock Holmes." The boy had stopped struggling and stayed still so that John could get up, too.

"Well, Sherlock, do you like chocolate?" Sherlock nodded and John dug into his pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar.

"It's not the magical kind like you get here but it still tastes good all the same." Sherlock took it gingerly.

"First wizard in your family." It wasn't a question. John looked down surprised.

"Yes, how did you know?" Sherlock merely shrugged. "Come on, tell me. I really want to know."

"You won't after I tell you." Sherlock insisted.

"Oh, come on. Tell me."

Sherlock took in a deep breath, "All your school stuff is new. And while you could be the oldest, your book bag says otherwise. It has the initials HW and it's not old enough to be your father's. Older sibling, then. It's not the usual bag you find in the wizarding world, meaning that your older sibling isn't magical. They could be a squib but your manner suggests you have a lot of pressure on you. Most muggle-borns feel like they have something to prove. You could be a half-blood but you said, 'not the magical kind you get here' meaning you still aren't used to the wizarding world. Having one magical parent would mean that you would be use to it but you aren't. Considering you're starting your third year that means this is only your third foray into the wizarding world and things are still new to you. In fact, you would rather not be magical at all."

"How do you know that?" John was frowning.

"You could have bought chocolate on the train but you still have your muggle chocolate." Sherlock cringed, waiting for the usual response.

"That was… incredible." John blinked.

"Really?" Sherlock rocked his head back in surprise.

"Of course it was. It was bloody brilliant."

Sherlock turned to the side and muttered through the side of his mouth. "That's not what people normally say."

"Oh, what's that?"

"Piss off."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I decided to spilt the first chapter because it was too long. I hope you aren't too confused. But I promise a real new chapter by the end of today.**

* * *

The boy had surprised Sherlock. He was laughing at the piss off. Actually laughing. It wasn't long until Sherlock was joining him. His tears had dried and he felt nothing but warmth in his chest where he thought it had gone cold.

"Thank you, John." Sherlock smiled and John smiled back.

"Well it's about time for class. I guess I'll be seeing you around, Sherlock."

Sherlock nodded and wandered off to his class, even more confused than he had the night before.

He went through his first day of classes in a daze as he tried to make out the boy. He had deduced everything about him but still he was a mystery. He didn't have to give Sherlock chocolate, he could have laughed it off and left Sherlock alone. And maybe he might have done had he not seen Sherlock's tears.

Sherlock hadn't meant to cry. In fact he didn't know he was until John stopped him from running off. It was so strange.

He was starting to wonder about the being alone bit. He shook it off. He couldn't get his hopes up. He couldn't.

At dinner Molly nudged him in the ribs.

"I figured the howler upset you so I took notes in all our classes so you don't fall behind."

_Howler? _Sherlock thought. Oh yes, from his mother. He'd deleted it. Other than the bit about not coming home for Christmas, of course.

"Hmm… yes of course thank you." Sherlock muttered. He took the notes from her and tucked them away in his bag. He had been distracted by the blond boy. _John._ His mind reminded him.

He went up to his room and laid on his bed thinking about this John Watson.

* * *

John had done his good dead for the day but he still kept his eye out for the younger boy. At lunch he made his to the library to look up Holmes and what he found wasn't very pleasant, they were a ruthless sort. There was even an uncle in Azkaban for Christ's sake. But Sherlock didn't seem like that at all. But he was young yet, John thought. But he wondered, was that really true? Or did John just want to believe that so that he would stay away from him.

"I saw you talking to the freak…" He heard a voice above him. He looked up and saw a brassy black girl glaring at him.

"Excuse me who?" John looked her up and down. "And who are you?"

"Sally Donavon, Hufflepuff beater."

"Right I've seen you around the quiddich pitch.

"Stay away from the freak." She said again.

"Who?"

"Sherlock Holmes." John looked up her, his eyebrows arching up so high that it almost reached his hair line.

"And why should I do that? I didn't think I needed anyone's permission to talk to someone else."

"He's off. He's interested in crime and death."

John shrugged her off. "So? So does your precious Lestrade. I've seen the books he's pulled out last year."

"He's interested in stopping crime. Sherlock's interested in _committing_ crimes. There's a difference."

"Has he?" John asked.

"Has who what?" She was confused.

"Has Sherlock committed a crime to your knowledge?"

"Well no of course not he's too clever to get caught."

"Right, an eleven year old being a criminal master mind." John was laughing now. He stopped when he got shushed by the librarian.

"Just you wait and see. One day we'll be standing around a body and he'll be the one that put him there." John shook his head and wandered back to the Great Hall. Once he found him he walked up to where Sherlock was sitting.

"I talked to Sally Donavon."

* * *

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. _Damn. Well there goes that._ "And?" He tried to make his voice as cold as ice.

"Yeah, bit of a bitch ain't she?" Both Sherlock's eyebrows went up.

"Well… they all are really…" Sherlock hedged.

"Those from your home town?" John said as he sat down next to him.

"Yeah." Sherlock played around with his food, shoving it around his plate.

"Tossers the lot of them. Is it because of that… thing you did with me?"

"Mostly. That and having what was it Mrs. Donavon said… oh yes. No filter. I just say whatever comes to my head. It's not my fault they chose to take offense." He looked up at John. "Is it?"

"I'm sure some of it is. I mean people really don't want to hear that their girlfriend is cheating on them or have their friends hear that their parents are divorcing. People have pride and you tear it down so easily."

Sherlock looked down at his food. "I don't understand."

John cocked his head to the side curiously. "Don't understand what?"

"I thought they'd want to know these things. I would."

"I see. I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually." John moved to get up but about half way he stopped and turned back.

"You like quiddich?" Sherlock shrugged.

"Don't know much about it really. My parents aren't fond of the sport."

"Meet me after History of Magic and I'll explain it to you."

"You really like it, don't you?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah it's about the only sport where being light and fast in an advantage." John clapped him on the shoulder and rose the rest of the way. "Eat up. It gives you strength."

* * *

Sherlock wandered down to the quiddich pitch and looked around. There weren't any teams practicing so there was just one lonely boy in the center, with two broomsticks waiting.

Sherlock walked up to him. "Hey."

"You're from a wizarding family right? You know how to fly?"

Sherlock nodded. He could, he just didn't enjoy it.

John tossed him the other broomstick. Sherlock caught it with ease. "I'd say you'd make a fair chaser, if you weren't so small." John winked at him to let him know he was joking. Besides who was John to call anyone small not when he wasn't much taller.

"What does a chaser do?" Sherlock asked.

John opened the chest next to him and pulled out the red round ball. There were three other balls in there and Sherlock didn't like the look of any of them.

"A chaser's job is to get the quaffle past the keeper who guards the three loops on their end of the pitch. Each quaffle through the hoops is ten points."

"So the other team is trying to do the same?"

John nodded. "But it's not as easy as it sounds not with the bludgers banging around trying to knock you off your broom."

Sherlock looked down at the angry black balls trying to get free of their restraints.

"How do you avoid them?"

"That's what the team's beaters are for. They move around the field knocking the bludgers away from their teammates and to the other team."

"Brutal." Sherlock shuddered.

"A bit yeah."

"So which one are you?"

"None of the above. I'm a seeker." John bent down and picked up the ball. The golden snitch.

"My job is to catch this little blighter. It's worth 150 points."

"Why so much?"

"Because it's wicked fast and damn near impossible to see. Most games are won by the team that catches it."

"Most?" Sherlock found himself interested in spite of himself.

"There've been a few where the other team was so far behind that caught snitch to avoid further humiliation."

John looked at the younger boy, "You want to toss the quaffle around a bit? I really don't want to get the others out, It'll be dark soon and I don't want to have to explain to my captain why I lost our practice balls."

Sherlock shrugged again. There was no harm in trying after all. If he didn't like he wouldn't play again.

He mounted the broomstick and was soon in the air. They kept low to the ground at first until Sherlock got a hang of holding the broom with one and catching with the other.

Too soon the bell tolled for dinner.

"Well that's that, for the night. Thanks for coming." John said as he packed up the quaffle his cheeks red from the cold and excursion .

"That was fun." Sherlock admitted. "But I think I'll stick to the ground thanks." John laughed.

"Well we all can't be quiddich players."

"What _do_ you want to be when you grow up?" Sherlock asked as he helped John cart the chest back to the Gryffindor changing rooms.

John blushed. "They tell me I'm a natural healer. A rare one that can heal without potions. Which is good because I'm terrible at potions. But I want to be an auror. Or whatever this world's version of the army is. Maybe I'll join the muggle's army do good that way. I want adventure and excitement."

"And you don't get enough of that just being in the wizarding world?" Sherlock inquired.

"It's not the same. Ever since I was a boy I want to be a soldier, fighting for peace and justice. My dad was an army medic- er.. healer. And that's what I was going to be. Until I found out I was a wizard." John looked crestfallen.

"So why don't you?"

John shrugged. He figured it went against the whole secret society bullshit that the wizards had.

"There are all sorts wizards in regular jobs to make sure the muggles don't accidentally find out about us. I figure there's a fair amount in the military. I mean surely the muggles would noticed the huge duel in the 40's otherwise." Sherlock pressed.

John thought about it. In the muggle world there had been a major world war and if what Sherlock said was true than that meant that wizards were having their own war at the time. As daft as most muggles were when it came to ignoring things under their noses something that big would have been noticed unless some of the key players were wizards directing the battles away from magical hot spots.

"Huh. I never thought of it that way. Thanks," John said, after he worked it all out. It was as though a weight had been lifted off his chest. Maybe he could enjoy this magic thing after all.

Sherlock beamed at his friend. No one had thanked him honestly before. When people usually said the word it was because they were forced to or because they were being sarcastic.

"Well you know all about me, what do you want to do when you grow up?"

Sherlock smiled. "A job far more eccentric then yours."

John blinked, far more eccentric than wanting to be in the muggle army? Was that even possible?

"What's that?" John furrowed his brow in curiosity.

"A consulting auror." Sherlock's grin nearly split his face.

"A what now?" The frown increased as he struggled to understand.

"Aurors are the people that go around catching dark wizards and the like. People who murder, steal, blackmail with magic. But I don't want to be bound by the Ministry rules. Dull!" John laughed at his friend. "So I'm going to take the cases I find interesting, help the people I want to. For a small fee of course." John started laughing so hard. Sherlock looked down at his friend.

"What so funny?" Sherlock demanded as John collapsed against a door frame they had past on their way to the Great Hall.

"Only you Sherlock. Only you." John said as he caught his breath.

"Only me what?" Sherlock was confused. He didn't understand what was so funny.

"I wasn't laughing to because what you said was funny as such. It's just the concept sounds very much like the private detectives in the old radio serials my parents grew up on. Going off on mad adventures, solving mysteries, getting the girl…"

Sherlock pursed his lips "Hmm… girls… not my area…" He hummed.

"Oh?" This surprised him. "Like boys then?"

"No…" Sherlock didn't understand the line of questioning.

"Well, that's fine too. You're young yet. No need to dash off and get into something that's over your head."

Sherlock was confused. But somehow he also felt accepted. That no matter if he liked girls, boys or none of the above, John would still be his friend.

* * *

John looked at his friend and wondered how he couldn't seem to grasp the finer emotions. Not that John knew everything about emotions but he felt that Sherlock's trade off for genius, (and there always was one) was that he didn't understand emotions. Not that he didn't feel them. John could see that he did. Sherlock just felt them deeper than most.

John's shoulders shook with repressed laughter. Sherlock was like those aliens in that old sci-fi series. But he knew that Sherlock wouldn't understand what he was talking about.

They made to the Great Hall and parted ways like always. He turned to his table and felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Kat and Gail were practically glued to each other's faces. Suddenly despite the vigorous exercise he had just participated in, he wasn't hungry. A red hot flush came to his cheeks and turned away and made his way back to the north tower.

The Fat Lady glared at him when showed up in the middle of her tea time with her friend. She sniffed and then completely ignored him. He sat at the base of her painting his knees curled up to chest as he fought the raging emotions that swirled around his head.

He had liked Gail. Why didn't they tell him they were together? He sighed. He guessed that they didn't want him feeling like a third wheel. It still hurt. He was snuffling in his shirt when he felt a light touch on his arm. He looked up to see the pale mousy Ravenclaw girl.

"You okay?" she asked as she crouched to his level. He looked up at her. Her brown eyes were filled with compassion.

"I guess. I'm John." He extended his hand to her.

"I know. Sherlock doesn't shut up about you." John's eyebrows shot up. He didn't think Sherlock talked to _anyone_.

"Molly, by the way." She said taking his hand and giving it a good firm shake. Maybe she wasn't as mousy as she appeared. But then he'd only ever seen her with Sherlock so…. He nearly smacked his head at the stupidity of his slow moving brain. Just as he had had a crush on Gail she had a crush on Sherlock. He knew that. He saw it their first day. He just assumed that she was naturally shy.

She moved to sit next to him.

"So you liked that girl?" He looked at her sharply. He thought only Sherlock was that observant. She blushed.

"Well, it wasn't that hard to tell. You walk in catch her snogging that other third year and you promptly walk back out. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that you like her."

"I guess not. I just wish they had told me. I thought they were my friends."

"You can be my friend if you want. I don't have many friends and could use a few more."

"Thanks Molly. Though you sure you aren't just asking because that means you get to hang out with Sherlock more?" He winked at her and laughed when she went a bright shade of pink. "You aren't the only one to be observant, you know."

Molly laughed too. "I guess I thought I hid it better. But he's incredible, isn't he?"

John laughed. Yes, there was no doubt that Sherlock was a bit incredible. But he was also a bit of an ass too.

Below them they could hear the sounds of their fellow students breaking after dinner. Molly stood up.

"See you around, John." Molly smiled and dusted off her bottom. "I know it's not going to mean much coming from me but you'll find someone else." She patted his shoulder and made her way back to the Ravenclaw Tower.

John scrambled up and turned to face the painting again.

"Bottleberry." She rolled her eyes but swung open to allow him entrance. He dashed up to his dorm and quickly stripped. He jumped into bed and pulled the curtains around him. Heart pounding in his chest, he lay there trying to calm his breathing. He needed to appear that he had been there the whole time so that Kat wouldn't suspect anything.

He heard his dorm-mates stomp into the room and he closed his eyes.

"Dude! How did you get a leggy thing like Gail to snog your ugly ass?" That whiny tone could only be Freddy Hayworth. A black boy who was a scrawny thing that stuck to Kat mainly for protection from bullies. Hell, even second and first years took delight in picking on him, that how weak he was.

"Paid her is my bet!" Which meant that was Ken Gorey. He was an average looking boy with horn-rim glasses and brown hair and eyes.

"Oi! Did not! Some girls just like the strong, silent types. Which would be none of you lot!" Kat sounded a bit upset. Normally John would have rushed to defend him but he wasn't feeling particularly friendly toward Kat at the moment. John moved restlessly to his side and they must of heard the movement as they suddenly went quiet.

"John…?" Kat called out hesitantly. John squeezed his eyes tight and then opened them.

"Yeah?" his voice was raw from the earlier crying and fighting back the tears while they were in the room.

"How long you been there, mate?" Freddy asked.

"Since before dinner. Must have caught a cold or something." He coughed to clear his throat.

"Well I guess the cat's out of the bag now. Me and Gail having been seeing each other since end of term last year. I know you like her mate… but she really likes me. She sees me for who I am and not a troll like most people do."

"Come on, John say something…" Kat pleaded.

"Congrats." And a single tear streaked over his nose and hit his pillow.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So here we are as promised. One shiny new chapter for you to enjoy. This chapter is brought to you by my friend John who helped me get over block. And helped me provide a nice little twist at the end. And the plot starts up in the chapter.**

* * *

Sherlock looked up at the new potion master and felt this weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. It couldn't be fear. Sherlock wasn't afraid of anything. But there was something unsettling about him. He was tall with piercing black eyes hooded under thick eyebrows. His long black hair fell on his shoulders. His clothes were black and finely tailored. But despite this Sherlock could tell that he was from a poor family with an abusive father most likely a muggle too.

Here was a broken man. And Sherlock wondered what had broken him.

"Good morning class," his voice was deep and had this strange almost purr to it.

"I am Professor Snape. And there will be no fancy wand waving or silly incantations in this class." The class that was already quiet went deadly silent. There wasn't even the sound of squirming. Even Sherlock who had a hard time sitting still for any length of time, didn't dare to move. And he thought only Mycroft had that ability.

"If you would please turn to page three of your books." All the kids turned to the page and sat there as he gave instructions.

Sherlock looked over the instructions and within minutes had brewed the potion. Prof. Snape came over and took a small sip of the potion.

"What's your name?" he barked.

"Sherlock Holmes, sir." Sherlock's bright blue eyes met cold unfeeling black eyes and he fought the urge to gulp.

"Mr. Holmes… ten points to Ravenclaw." And he walked off. Sherlock was left feeling more unsettled than if the professor had yelled at him.

When he saw John at lunch he seemed down. He shoulders were slumped and not with the friends he usually sat with. Molly came up behind John and pointed to Ravenclaw table, John nodded and got up. He followed her to the other table as he neared he could hear what they talking about. They were discussing the new potions teacher.

"God, I'm in so much trouble," John was complaining.

"I did okay. He unnerved me so I put in one too many slugs and turned bright green instead of pale green like it was suppose to."

"My potion turned puke green and it was suppose to be sky blue. He docked ten points from my House when he smelled it. I'm going to fail."

Sherlock came and stood behind John and said with a clear voice, "I could tutor you."

John jumped. "Oh?" He said when he saw Sherlock standing behind him.

"I got ten points added to my House this morning for my potion." Sherlock said, a smug smile spread across his thin lips.

"He did, too." Molly told John. "I thought Prof. Snape was going to kill him when he tasted Sherlock's potion, he got this sour expression on his face but he ended up giving Ravenclaw ten points instead."

"Indeed." Sherlock tucked his hands tightly behind his back and rocked back and forth on his toes.

"Ugh… a first year tutoring a third… how embarrassing. But it's a shame I'm willing to endure if it keeps Gryffindor from further point loss." John's shoulders sagged further.

"You'll do fine. Besides we all can't be potion masters." Sherlock winked at him and John laughed.

"No, I suppose not."

Molly looked back and forth between them clearly confused.

"Inside joke. Sorry Mol." John tried to explain through his giggles and Sherlock just stood there, an amused smile on his face. She threw a roll at Sherlock and then John.

"You two! Honestly!"

Sherlock ducked and it missed, John caught his and took a bite.

* * *

John ached after quiddich practice and all he wanted to do was find a hot bath and a butter beer and not move for the rest of the night but he promised Sherlock that tonight he would start his potions tutoring. So he trudged up to the empty classroom Sherlock had gotten permission to use and plopped next to Sherlock.

He had everything set up and the third year potions book open to the first potion.

"Alright show me what you did," Sherlock told him. John set to work and again it turned puke green.

"I watched you closely and came to the conclusion you rush it. Instead of stirring for two minutes like it says in the instructions, you stir for less than a minute."

John cursed long and loud.

"I have a suggestion. Take my pulse." John looked at him suspiciously. "You're going to be a healer, right?" John nodded. "Take my pulse." John sighed and took Sherlock's wrist and after exactly thirty seconds stopped and dropped the wrist.

"Your pulse is a little fast but still what would be considered normal."

"Did you know that you did that for exactly thirty seconds?"

John's eyebrows furrowed. "No I didn't."

"Actually, yes you did. Thirty seconds on the dot."

"That's not possible." John wasn't special despite what they kept trying to tell him.

"Actually, it is. Because for you, it's instinctual. It's thirty seconds for checking a pulse. So why not just extend that to your potion making?"

"I don't know how I do it in the first place." John pouted.

"Well what are you focusing on when you take someone's pulse?"

John shrugged. "The beat."

"Stir for me."

John was starting to feel silly but he needed to know this. He stirred the pot once.

"One second."

John jumped. "What now?"

"It takes you one second to stir. Think of each stir a heart beat." Sherlock made the potion vanish. "Try again. Think of each stir as a heart beat."

John tried again and this time the potion came out a muddy blue.

"Better. But you still got a little impatient at the end. Why?"

"I was measuring it to my heart beat and my heart sped up toward the end." John admitted sheepishly.

"Do you know why it sped up?"

John blushed and shook his head no.

"Try again." Sherlock demanded. John tried again, this time forcing his heart rate to remain neutral. This time it was closer to the sky blue it was suppose to be.

"Hmmm… I'm trying to figure out what wrong this time…" Sherlock went over all the things John did in his head. And couldn't come up with answer. It seemed that John had done everything right, so why wasn't it the color it was suppose to be? Sherlock dipped his finger into the potion and tasted it. It tasted right. He started inspecting John's potion kit, pouring over ever inch of them, but the problem wasn't there either.

John started to fiddle with his wand as watched Sherlock's manic movements. Sherlock started and grabbed John's wrist. John wrenched his hand back, protesting. "Sherlock!"

"You're left handed." Sherlock snapped at him.

"So?" John was starting to get angry too. _Don't tell me, more superstitious mumbo jumbo about lefties, right?_

"When you stir, it's easier to stir counter clockwise because you're left handed. In potion making unless it says to stir that way, you stir clockwise. You're stirring the wrong direction."

John stepped back stunned. He hadn't thought about it but Sherlock was right. He did stir that way.

"Oh. Um… thanks."

Sherlock smiled.

Over the next couple of weeks John began to improve in potions in so much that Prof. Snape commented on it.

"Very good, Watson. May I inquire where this sudden leap in ability is coming from?"

"I've been being tutored. I really want to do well in this class and I so asked for help."

"Ten points from Gryffindor." the drool voice barked out. John's head snapped up. _Wait? Why?_ he silently fumed.

Prof. Snape saw his expression and smirked. "Because you're so stupid that you have to be tutored by a first year." The rest of the class giggled and snerked behind him. "Give my regards to Holmes won't you?" The class out right laughed at that.

"SILENCE!" And the class quieted down but he could feel the pointing and smiling behind their hands.

* * *

Sherlock was excited when he came down for lunch. But that excitement drained when he saw the angry hunch of John's shoulders. There was no one near him and when Molly came up to him, he even snarled at her. She backed away slowly and bumped into Sherlock.

"Oh sorry." Molly said when she realized who she had hit.

"It's fine." He nodded to the angry form of the Gryffindor seeker. "What's his problem?"

"I'm not sure. He's never snapped at me before." Well that was certainly true. John was too nice. Molly expected it from Sherlock but John? Never.

Sherlock walked up to him and uttered one word. "Idiot."

John whirled around. "How dare you!" Sherlock stood his ground though, there was a little knot of pain in his chest he hadn't been expecting when John yelled at him too.

"I got docked ten points today because of _you_!" John snarled. "Leave me alone." Sherlock was about to explain his comment when a couple of Slytherins came by.

"Ooh… playing with first years are we, Watson?" the first boy sneered. He was short like John but the complete opposite in every way. He had dark hair and eyes. His face hard and calculating. He wore the uniform like a second skin. His hands were in his pockets and he had this sickening smile on his face.

"Bugger off Moriarty." John snapped.

But the boy ignored him and turned Sherlock. "So, you're the younger Holmes boy… hmmm… I'm not impressed." His voice was lilting Irish brogue. It was high pitched and oozing with charm. He walked up to Sherlock and stroked Sherlock's chin with his finger. Sherlock wrenched his face away.

"Hmm… first years are so boring. Hmm… but maybe not you." That smile seemed permanently affixed to his face.

John grabbed Moriarty's arm and pushed him away from Sherlock. "You stay away from him."

"We'll see. Maybe I should get a pet too. But I think I'll just take yours. That's more fun, isn't it?" He hummed excitedly.

"Who are you?" Sherlock snarled. He wasn't anyone's pet. Not John's and not this _Slytherin_.

"I'm Jim. Hi! Jim Moriarty. And I'll be seeing you Sherlock. Come along Jeff." And the other boy trailed off after him.

"I hate that guy." John huffed.

A sense of dread pooled in the pit of Sherlock's stomach. This was someone that would have to be watched carefully. _Very _carefully.

"Is he one of your year?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah. I have potions with the git. He's Snape's favorite." John's mention of Snape brought back the frown to his face. "Hey, don't think this gets you out of me being upset with you."

"Yes it does. You are more worried about Moriarty than you are about my tutoring costing you ten points. Besides Prof. Snape just doesn't like Gryffindors. I wouldn't take it personally, if I were you."

John sat in silence for a minute. "Yeah all right." Sherlock flashed him a smile.

"I should probably go apologize to Molly, huh?" John asked as he ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

Sherlock shrugged. "I'm sure she'll be fine." John laughed.

"In other words, she's not fine and if I don't apologize soon she's going to start crying."

"That's not what I said." Sherlock didn't like anyone putting words in his mouth.

"No. But then you aren't good with emotions, yeah?" John said as he got to his feet. Sherlock merely shrugged and tagged along for John's silly apology. But even he had to admit that Molly appeared happier with the apology than without it.

Perhaps John was right. Hmm... he wasn't sure how he felt about someone being better at something than him.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: ****_Forgive me!_**** I hadn't meant to make you wait two whole weeks for this! I'm so so sorry! Last week I was on vacation. But it's a good chapter I promise!**

* * *

John stopped tutoring with Sherlock but at least he didn't slip back to being the idiot he was. He would have to skate by and only get Sherlock to tutor him for his OWLs so that he can get in the advance class. He'd heard from the sixth years that Prof. Snape only allowed O-level students in his advance class. Well, he did have two years before he got to that point.

After Sherlock's allegation that the potions master was simply prejudicial against Gryffindors, John watched Prof. Snape carefully. Sure, enough even though there were a couple of bright talented potion makers in the Gryffindor side of the room, he graded them far more harshly than their Slytherin counterparts.

So he put up with it. There was nothing he could do about it and having a smart mouth like Sherlock would only serve to aggravate the matter further. But it still made his blood boil at the unfairness of it all. But then he supposed that the other teachers did the same thing. Prof. McGonagall certainly liked her Gryffindors better than the students from the other Houses.

Frankly he was terrified of Prof. McGonagall. Anyone powerful enough to change from human to animal and back at will, was scary in his book. He liked his teachers for the most he supposed. Of course the classes he was best at were the practical ones, charms, transfigurations, defense against the dark arts and oddly enough astronomy. But then it was something they taught in the 'muggle' world and he knew a bit about it to begin with.

Sherlock hated it.

"What have I use of it?" He pouted when he threw his quill at the parchment. "Nothing is new in heaven or earth. What do I care if a clump of stars is named after a centaur or dragon? What planet moves where and when? How does it affect me?"

John laughed. "It affects you because you're the type of person who must get good grades in everything."

Sherlock snarled. "I hate this!"

John moved over and pulled Sherlock's star chart out. He pointed out the cluster of stars known as Orion. "This is the hunter. These three stars are known as Orion's Belt. The muggles found out recently that instead of the three we can see with the naked eye, there's actually four." He pointed to the one on the left. "There are actually two stars, really close together. That's why it's so bright."

"You know, that actually is interesting." Sherlock admitted. "Care to return the favor?"

"What favor is that?" John asked.

"Tutor me! Help me understand this! I don't want to fail!"

"Sherlock, it's all right. I'll help you out."

They were almost done when the Gryffindor prefects came dashing to the Hall.

"Everyone stay here! There's been an incident. The other students will be joining you shortly." They went and stood by the doors to avoid people getting out and to only let students in as they filtered in.

"Well, there goes that. I'll catch you guys after." John said as he stood up. He moved over to the Gryffindor table. Once everyone was in, he heard Gale whisper to Kat.

"Hey, where's Martin?" John looked around and saw that Martin Larson was no where to be seen. He was their quiddich captain and their best chaser.

"I haven't seen him," Kat whispered back, he glanced over at John.

"I don't spend much time with him," John huffed. "Not my year."

"But he's your captain!" Gale admonished.

"Doesn't mean I keep tabs on the guy. Do _you_ know where he is?"

Gale was about to answer when Dumbledore stepped up to the platform.

"I regret to inform you that Gryffindor Captain, Martin Larson has been missing since yesterday morning and all efforts to locate him have been with failure."

The hall erupted in shouts of anger, fear, and disbelief. There was also a small smattering of elated gasps from the Slytherin table but were silenced with a glare from the head master.

"We are attempting to search the Forbidden Forest but it has been slow going with the various creatures and other dangers that lurk beneath it's branches." John raised his eyes to Sherlock and saw that the boy had his brow furrowed in suspicion. John turned back to the headmaster who had waited for the grumbling to stop.

"As of right now, there won't be any restrictions but please be on your guard. All students will go back to their dorms as classes will be canceled for today and will resume on Monday. Third years, as a reminder this is the first weekend for the trip to Hogsmead, please make sure you turn in your permission slips to your head of house. That will be all, dismissed."

John made eye contact with Sherlock who merely nodded. John followed his prefects to the most of the way to their tower. Suddenly he stopped.

"Bloody hell!" John called out. The prefects stopped and turned around.

"I left my book bag in the Great Hall!" John grumped.

"Do you think you'll be okay on your own or would you like one of us to come with you?" she asked.

"I'll be fine." They nodded and continued to make their way to the Gryffindor tower.

John waited until they were out of sight and then ducked down a passage. He dodged a teacher and waited out Peeves. Finally he got to his and Sherlock's meeting place.

He turned to see Sherlock holding his book bag. "You left this at your table. You should be more careful with it. Especially since it means _so_ much to you."

John laughed. "All right Sherlock, what's this about? You don't just call me out here for nothing." John stopped and cocked his head to the side. "Though you have been known to do that from time to time. Like the time you needed a quill. Or the time you were bored in Charms and wanted to go chase the grindylow instead. Or the time-"

"All right enough!" Sherlock interceded. "There is a reason this time. There is something I need to tell you. It's about that missing boy."

"Martin? What about him?"

"Yesterday just before they said he disappeared, I saw him arguing with someone."

"Who did you see him argue with?" John looked confused.

"Prof. Snape." Sherlock did not look pleased with this revelation and John's eyes went wide.

"You don't mean that a _professor_ had anything to do with this do you?" John felt the need to defend the potions master, if for nothing else that the Headmaster believed in him.

"I don't know John. But don't you think it's strange that a student who was arguing with a known Death Eater suddenly turns up missing?"

"I'll admit it does seem suspicious, but really Sherlock. Aren't you taking this detective thing a bit too far. You're only one little first year. They are fully trained wizards, let them handle it."

"I have you, John. I don't need anyone else. Add Molly and we can do this. Think about it. It could be dangerous."

John's eyes lit up at that last phrase. "God, how do you find just the right things to say to make me go along with your hair-brained ideas?" He ran his hand over his face in frustration, knowing full well that he would agree to this.

"Because despite how different we appear to be, fundamentally we crave the same things." Sherlock's eyes had a wicked gleam to them.

John folded his arms skeptically, "Oh, do enlighten me."

"Danger and adventure."

_All right he's got me there. _John thought wildly to himself.

"Alright." John acquiesced. "Clearly, you don't want to tell a professor about you saw, so what do you want to do?"

"Don't be ridiculous, John. Of course I told a professor. I'm not stupid. Were we adults I wouldn't have told anyone anything. The problem, is of course whether or not they believed me. And if they didn't, then there is nothing else to do but investigate this on our own."

John sighed. He supposed that was a problem when it came to adults. They were under this strange assumption that all children were liars or at least overly excitable and therefore couldn't be relied on for any kind of information.

"All right. If they don't follow up on your lead, then I agree to help you find Martin. But only _if_ they don't listen to you."

Sherlock sighed happily and John groaned. He got the feeling that Sherlock had suckered him into something that he couldn't get out of.

"Give me my bag. They'll start to wonder where I am." Sherlock handed him the bag with a large grin on his face.

John made it back to his room without incident and wanted to just collapse on his bed and nap. Being Sherlock's friend was exhausting, even when they weren't running around like maniacs. Just being with him was mentally draining.

Kat came in and sat on his bed and looked over at John.

"Hey, mate?" Kat asked tentatively. John groaned.

"What, Kat?"

"I know that you're still upset that Gale and I didn't tell you about our relationship but..." he trailed off, hesitantly.

John bolted in his bed and looked at him.

"But what, Kat?" John's voice held a cold hard edge.

"I've been hearing things about that Holmes boy. Mycroft's normal enough, a bit of a cold fish but at least he's sociable. But this Sherlock. He's weird. He knows things about people he shouldn't. He alienates everyone around him. Find someone else to hang out with. Even if it's not us."

"You know what I think, Kat? I think I shouldn't get friendship advice from a guy that thought he had to hide his relationship with his girlfriend just because I had a crush on her. Didn't you guys once think 'oh hey, he's our friend, he might be happy for us'?" Kat looked down at his feet. "I didn't think so. And you want to know something else? Sherlock Holmes is the smartest, cleverest boy I've ever met and he's not cold like his brother. He's warm and caring and maybe he doesn't get the whole social thing but for god's sake, he's a kid. We're all awkward right now. So go bugger off and let me be friends with who I want." John huffed.

Kat put up his arms in defeat. "All right, mate. But don't say you weren't warned."

"God! What is it and people warning me off Sherlock? First Donovan and than you. I can pick my own friends thanks." John flopped on his bed and rolled over on his side. He could hear Kat get up and whisper to someone in the hall. He closed his eyes and didn't expect to sleep but he drifted off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock smirked as John left. John didn't need to know that the professor he told would be the least likely person to follow through with telling the headmaster what Sherlock had seen. Earlier Sherlock had deduced from the stain of the professor's cuff that he was cheating on his wife of twenty years with a muggle woman no less, in front of the whole class.

It was time to get to down to following the potions master. He started around the corner and ran straight into the man. Sherlock jumped back.

"I'm sorry professor." Sherlock intoned. Snape raised his eyebrow.

"You best be careful, Holmes. We don't want people to think you're _up_ to something, now would we?" The dark eyes met the pale blue ones and held it. Sherlock felt a fear unfurl in the pit of his stomach. Fear was not something the younger Holmes was acquainted with and this fear was almost irrational. Sherlock wasn't sure how long it stretched on but was relieved when Prof. Flitwick came around the corner.

"Holmes! There you are!" He turned to his fellow professor. "Thank you for finding him for me. I will talk to you later." Snape bowed to the older professor and moved away but he spared one sideways glance toward Sherlock and left, his robes flapping behind him like a giant crow or bat. Personally Sherlock thought he looked more like a crow with that beak of his...

"Where did you go Holmes?" Prof. Flitwick asked when they were both finally alone.

"I got separated from the group and got lost. I'm sorry." The small professor patted Sherlock's hand.

"Nothing to be sorry about. Now let's get you back to your dorm before someone else spots you, shall we?"

"Thank you, professor." Sherlock cursed silently to himself. He knew that he wasn't going to get another chance to tail the young professor that day, now that he was on his way back to his dorm. He would be stuck there until morning. Lord, he wished he had an invisibility cloak. It would make sneaking out sooo much easier. But there was no going for it. Inside he would remain.

He sighed as he stepped through the portrait. He went up to his dorm and ignored his dorm-mates out of sheer principle of that fact that they were dense. Not like John. John had a way of looking at things that sparked ideas in Sherlock. These people were _dull_.

The next morning Sherlock was surprised to see carriages out in front of the school and John among the students milling around by them. _Oh damn_. Sherlock thought. It was the first Hogsmead visit and there was no way that John would want to skip that. Sherlock thought about briefly bringing Molly but he didn't think that the shy girl would be up for a jaunt through the forest.

Sherlock sighed. There was no going for it. He would have to do the unthinkable. He would have to ask _Mycroft. Damn!_ Sherlock thought. _I can't do that either. He'll be going with them._ Sherlock was running out options but he had to visit the area he saw Prof. Snape and the Gryffindor boy at least.

He would have to go by himself. _John is going to kill me._ He thought as he rubbed his forehead fitfully. That is if he survived the experience. He waited until the older students left before he made his way to the hut of the groundskeeper's assistant. Hagrid was a good soul but drank far too much. Mycroft had been complaining about why he was kept on. He said that every Friday night he would drink himself into a stupor and sleep late with the worse hangover known to man.

Sherlock peeked into the window and saw the half-giant snoring away. Sherlock figured he had about a half hour to an hour before he woke. Sherlock smiled to himself and made his way into the Forest. Hagrid's hut was the closest to forest without being in the wide open. He slipped through the trees and found that he was fascinated by the flora alone. There were so many different plants and he couldn't even identify all of them. He was tempted to samples to experiment on. But Sherlock forced himself to focus on the task at hand.

Sherlock had an impeccable sense of direction and knew that unlike Larson he wouldn't get lost. If that is what happened, Sherlock wasn't so sure. After all, there was the argument the boy had with the potions master. It couldn't be a coincidence, it just couldn't be. So focused on his task that he forgot to be mindful of his surroundings. Suddenly there were flaying hooves and angry shouts in front of him and he stumbled back. His head hit a tree and it blurred his vision. He shook his head to clear it and wished he hadn't.

The hooves stomped down and standing before him was a light haired centaur with a palomino body. Their eyes were the same startlingly blue and Sherlock's breath hitched in his throat. This centaur had to be the most beautiful thing Sherlock had ever seen. Sherlock struggled to his feet and stared the centaur down.

"You show no fear, littling. How do you know that I won't harm you?" The centaur's voice was strong and powerful, Sherlock could feel it reverberating through him.

"I don't, sir. But if you are going to kill me, there is little I could do to stop you. I have only recently began my magical education and knowing which potion to use to get me out of the situation does little since I don't have it with me and I doubt you would wait while I gathered the ingredients and brewed it. I know some higher level spells of course but I'm not sure of their effectiveness against one such as you."

"You are wise beyond your years littling. What is your name?" The centaur folded his arms in front of him and lifted his right foreleg.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Well Sherlock Holmes, I am Firenze. What are you doing in my forest littling?"

"A boy disappeared and everyone thinks he's just run off." Sherlock explained.

"You don't?" Sherlock shook his head. "And why would that be?"

"I saw him arguing with someone right before he disappeared."

"So? The argument could have caused the boy to want to run away."

"The man he was talking to is a known Death Eater."

"Ah. You think this man meant the boy harm?" Firenze stomped his foot fitfully.

"It's the only explanation I have. So I was trying to get the spot near the forest I saw them argue to check it out for myself. See if I'm right."

"And you couldn't just head there without entering the forest?" Sherlock ducked his head.

"I made an error. I ran into the man yesterday and I fear he may have guessed my intention and would have headed me off."

"Go, Sherlock. Do not return to this part of the forest ever again. I will not be held responsible for what will happen to you if you do. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." He pointed the direction he was heading. "Do you mind if I exit this way?"

Firenze chuckled. "You may. But Sherlock, not all that glimmers is gold. No one is what they seem to be." Sherlock nodded and hurried down his path. He got the edge of the forest and looked back. The beautiful centaur stood watching him from beneath the twisted trees of the Forbidden Forest.

Sherlock pulled out his wand and cast the spell him and Mycroft came up with years ago. "_Magnificare!" _A bubble formed at the end of Sherlock's wand and he could look through it and could see things magnified. He rummaged around the area looking for clues but there was nothing to suggest that anything untoward had happened. Sherlock was very frustrated. He should have known that Snape would have been far too clever to have left a trace.

"_Aparecium!" _ Sherlock casted but still nothing happened. He had hoped that the revealing spell would have shown something but alas it was a fruitless venture.

He made sure no one was watching and made his way back to the castle as he passed through the doors, he felt this strange prickling between his shoulder blades as if someone was watching him. Sherlock looked around but saw no one. Sherlock wondered briefly if there was a spell or potion that renders one invisible. He shook his head. He had no time for such trifles. It was time find John. Surely he must be back by now.

He entered the Great Hall and sighed gratefully to see the sandy haired boy chatting with some of his fellow third years. But somewhere he felt a sharp pain as he looked at his only friend laugh with others. Sherlock didn't know what the emotion was so he pushed it away. Sherlock wasn't sure how long he stood their watching John chat with the other students but after what felt like an eternity John looked up.

"Sherlock!" John excused himself and ran up to the Ravenclaw. "I have so much to tell you!"

Sherlock nodded. "Me too." He whispered. John looked up sharply.

"Some place more private then?" Sherlock nodded. John took them outside to one of the quads. Looking around to make sure no one was around John turned to his friend.

"Alright spill."

"But John, I really want to hear about Hogsmead. Honest!" Sherlock added when he saw John's skeptical face. "Mycroft and I don't live in a village. And the nearest one isn't a pure wizarding village. Please tell me all about it. I really want to know. Then I promise to tell you all about my little adventure."

John sighed. Sherlock smiled, he knew that sigh. It was sigh John used when he was about to let Sherlock have his way and sure enough he launched into the joke shop, the candy shop and pub.

"I'd never seen anything like it Sherlock. Everything run by magic. It was truly fascinating."

"Liking us wizards a bit more than?" Sherlock smirked.

"A bit." John said, returning the smirk.

"Just wait until you find a nice witch and want to settle down, then you'll never want to leave the wizarding world." Sherlock winked.

"Well that's not going to happen anytime soon, let me tell you." John chided his friend. "Now seriously spill or I swap your wand with a joke one."

Sherlock grinned and commenced into his tale about the Forest and the centaur.

"I've never seen anything so beautiful John. His eyes were the same color as mine and he white hair and tail. I wouldn't say he was kind but perhaps kinder than then the rest of his race is known for."

"Wow. Too bad I missed it. So you couldn't find out anything?"

"No. And I don't understand. I'm sure I was where I saw them fighting but there was nothing out the ordinary."

"Did you get into trouble last night on your way back?" John asked.

"I... um... ran into Prof. Snape. Quite literally."

"Sherlock!" John admonished. "Are you trying to get expelled?"

"No. I honestly didn't know he would be there. It was quite by accident. He frightened me John. I don't know how but he did. I don't feel emotion that way but there was something he did that scared me. If Prof. Flitwick hadn't come a long I would have run in terror. Me!"

"Alright. It's okay now Sherlock. You'll just have to be more careful next time."

"He did legilimency John. I'm sure of it." Sherlock was truly frightened.

"What's that?"

"I forget that you are muggle born sometimes. Legilimency is the ability to glean thoughts and motives of another person to tell if they are lying. You can also implant memories and feelings into that person temporarily."

"Dear god! And you say he used it on you? A student? Couldn't he get into trouble for that?"

"Yes well, who would you believe? A troublemaking student or a new professor?"

"Oh."

"It's alright. And it doesn't appear that they know about the argument as they aren't looking at Prof. Snape as closely as they should."

"Damn." John cursed. "I guess this means we're going to have to investigate this ourselves."

"Indeed." Sherlock smiled broadly.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Man this chapter was a bitch. Sorry it took so long to get it up. But it's up now. And thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and follows.**

* * *

They were having a hard time stalking a professor who seemed far too clever by half and if Sherlock was right, reading them like an open book. John sat in class and watched Prof. Snape bullied Quincy Adams. The boy was stuttering and falling all over himself to get the potion right and this fourth time the potions master had made him do it. In front of the whole class with the Slytherins laughing, while the Gryffindors were forced to watch in silence.

Every time one of them would speak up for Adams Snape would deduct ten points from their house. John was starting to get sick. How could anyone be this horrible? But finally Adams' potion turned bright pink, showing that he had do it correctly. The professor leaned in close and said something to the boy and then straightened.

"Class dismissed!" he rang out. Immediately John sought out the other Gryffindor.

"Quincy, you okay man?" John asked as he got near the stricken boy. He just nodded and he ran out of the room. John spared a glance back at their professor. The man stood there watching the student file out. Their eyes connected and John was forced to look away. Sherlock was right. He could plant emotions in your head. But this one wasn't fear. It was something else. It was more like unease or apprehension. A sense of dread.

John shook off the feeling and made his way to his next class. He wasn't sure if the feeling was what his professor was feeling or if it was what he wanted John to feel. He fidgeted through his classes the feeling of apprehension growing. The feeling came to full hilt when he walked into the Great Hall for dinner when Filch came dashing in pushing past them.

"Headmaster! Headmaster!" He was clutching a cat in his arms. The thing looked old and shaggy.

"What is Argus?" Professor Dumbledore asked rising to his feet. John liked the calming voice of the school's headmaster. He could quiet a raging crowd with a single word.

"A boy has been found dead!" The school erupted.

"Calm down!" the room became dead silent.

"Is it the missing boy Argus?" Dumbledore asked fearfully.

"No, Headmaster. A new one." Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape all chased after Filch.

The students had pretty much stopped eating. John didn't even look up as he shuffled into the room and sat down.

Twenty minutes later an irate Filch was trailing behind a furious Professor Dumbledore.

"I swear I saw him Headmaster. Eyes open and blank, blood everywhere."

"That's enough, Argus. I believe you but he's not there now. So now we have a missing boy and a missing body. Did you recognize the boy?"

"No Headmaster." Filch sniveled.

"Very well Argus. Gather Hagrid and Richard Merriweather, start searching the grounds as before."

Dumbledore made it to the platform and then turned to face the student body.

"We need someone to step forward to tell us who this new boy could be. Filch our caretaker has said that he was most likely a third or fourth year with blond hair and slim build. Does this sound like any of your friends?"

John stood up. "Yes Watson?"

"That sounds like Quincy Adams sir. He's my year."

"Thank you, Watson, please sit down." John stood there a moment more and then did as he was bid.

He had been debating whether or not tell the professor what he saw in their potions class. He glanced at Prof. Snape but he coolly returned the gaze. _No, it's better to keep that quiet for now. _He would tell Sherlock of course. They needed to plan their next move and fast. He looked at his friend and nodded.

"What's the connection between the two boys?" He heard a fifth year ask.

"Other than they both being from Gryffindor, not much." Replied his friend. "Martin was talented sixth year. Captain of the quiddich team, more brawn then brain. Charming, good-looking, friendly. Quincy was the opposite. A loner third year. Kept to himself, wasn't good at much."

John agreed. There didn't seem to be any connection between the two except they had both ran afoul a certain potions master who was now becoming known for his dislike of Gryffindors. One that rumor held was a Death Eater. One of the Dark Lord's ilk. He certainly looked it, with his dark hair and eyes, the penchant for dark clothing.

Halloween was just around the corner, the school's favorite time of the year but everyone seemed subdued with the missing boys. It was now assumed with death of Adams that Larson was dead too.

It was actually something John missed about being a muggle really. The parties were better as a wizard with the treats and warm drinks and perfect music but he missed the dressing up, the being someone else for a day, the going from house to house getting candy and having a good laugh afterwards swapping our swag and gorging ourselves on our spoils.

He would have loved to take Sherlock trick-or-treating. See the boy's eyes light up as his bad was filled with goodies. But then again, he reflected, Mycroft would probably steal it. _Prat_! John had never actually met the older Holmes boy but even John could tell that he had this air of superiority. But he was well liked by his peers and took his being a prefect _very_ seriously. Perhaps too seriously.

John passed the professors who were putting up the decorations in a vain hope that it would cheer up the students. He made his way to their spot and looked around. Sherlock wasn't there yet. He sighed and leaned against the arch that led the deeper into the dungeons.

Finally Sherlock came running up, hot and breathless.

"Murder, John! Can you believe it? An actual murder. It's like Christmas!" Sherlock must have seen the incredulous look on John's face as he skidded to a halt in front his friend.

"Not good?" he asked.

"A bit not good, yeah," John replied.

"Argh! If only we had some way to this to Prof. Snape." Sherlock stomped around, John supposed that he was pacing but with angry expression and heavy steps, it looked more like stomping.

John eased away from the arch and moved to stand close to Sherlock.

"Who says we don't?" John asked folding his arms.

Sherlock stopped pacing (stomping) and whirled on his friend.

"What aren't you telling me, John?"

"Well, they'll be looking at him now. He was seen by a whole class full of students bullying Adams prior to his murder and disappearance." John felt a little smug knowing something Sherlock didn't.

"I wish I was older so that I could capture him myself. Just to see the look on his face." Sherlock muttered.

"I thought you liked Prof. Snape?" John asked, confused.

"That was before he became a murderer, John."

"Oh, right. What if he isn't?" John felt the question had to be asked.

"What if he isn't what?" Sherlock's eyes narrowed to slits.

"What if he isn't the murderer?" They were very quick settle on Snape when all they had was rumors and circumstantial evidence. John didn't feel comfortable hanging a man before they had all the facts.

Sherlock paused. "I forgot. The most important rule, never come to a conclusion before you have all the facts otherwise you force facts into your theory instead of using facts to form a complete theory. You're right John. We have to think this through. We don't have enough facts. Can you get me into Gryffindor Tower? I need to talk to friends of the boys. I need more data. I cannot make bricks without clay after all."

"I can try. But Sherlock shouldn't I just talk to them? I'm mean I'm in their house, they'll be more willing to talk to me, than you."

"I think it's time I researched that invisibility potion. That way I can look at them and see if they're lying."

"Can you do legilimency too, then?" John's face was full of wonder.

"Not yet. I'm going to start learning it from Mycroft soon. He's agree to teach me under the caveat that I not abuse it. Not like I would, I just want to be able to tell if witnesses and suspects are lying, not friends. No, there are other ways that can be used to tell if someone is lying. It's not always full proof but it's a start."

"How long do think it'll take you to do up the potion?" John asked. Not sure why he was agreeing to this.

"A couple weeks at least. I need to make sure it'll work and how long it'll work. Can't have me becoming visible in the middle of the interrogation now can we?" Sherlock smirked.

"I refuse to call it an interrogation. Let's call it an interview all right? These people aren't suspects."

"Not yet, anyway." Sherlock agreed. John rolled his eyes.

John spent the next couple weeks being twitchy and paranoid. Teachers were out patrolling the halls. Any stragglers were promptly routed. Other than lunch John found it hard to talk to Sherlock. But the younger boy seemed to be on the verge of a breakthrough when it came to the potion though. John looked at the potion instructions once and found that they were far too high above his head.

Halloween came and Sherlock said he was close. John never found out where the rumor started but it was soon noised about the school that the Dark Lord was dead and his army in ruins. That was cause for celebration. The students were happy for the first time in weeks.

But John noticed the absence of four people normally at banquet. Prof. Dumbledore wasn't a surprise. Not if the rumors were true. No it was the other three that worried John. McGonagall, Hagrid and most importantly Snape.

John shook his head and decided to enjoy the party for the party's sake. He was laughing and enjoying the food. They had the best candies. John steered clear of the chocolate. He was still fond of Cadbury's and wizard chocolate had that weird effect of making one "feel" better.

In the middle of the feast a very stern faced Prof. McGonagall burst open the doors. All laughter died as they watched the assistant headmistress rung her hands as she made her way to the dais. She conjured up the podium and turned to face the student body.

Her eyes seemed to meet everyone individually. Once she was sure she had our undivided attention she spoke out.

"I know there have been rumors and whispering about what has happened tonight. I don't want to have your imaginations run wild with speculations and fears."

They all stayed dead silent. "Tonight the Dark Lord walked into the house of a pair of aurors and their son to kill the boy. We aren't sure exactly what happened but the Potters are dead and their boy Harry lives. Whatever happened to Harry backfired and destroyed the Dark Lord. The boy is safe, in the arms of his family." When she said family, her mouth twisted bitterly.

That is the mutterings started. It soon became a dull roar but before it could get any louder, there was a large crack that came from the podium. They all looked at her in shock.

"I understand you wish to talk about this but you will show respect for the dead. The Potters were good people and I will have silence!" The majority of the them looked crestfallen. The Slytherins on the other hand? They looked sulky.

"Thank you. And let's not forget we have our own troubles. We have two missing boys both presumed dead. We hope that with the death of their leader that the Death Eaters will fall into confusion but there is no guarantee that someone worse won't step up and fill his shoes. Also there is the distinct possibility that these are unrelated to the Dark Lord and could even be a student.

"I want you all to be diligent and keep an eye out for anything suspicious and to report anything of that nature to a professor or adult. You may return to your meal. Quietly."

She waved her wand and the podium vanished. She went and sat down at the teachers table and watched them all for even the barest whisper.

John couldn't help but feel for the child. To have your parents taken away from you before you knew them was harsh. He'd heard of the Potters of course. Everyone knew about the almost army that was the Order of the Phoenix. It was the closest that the wizards ever got a real army and John was really hoping to join them when left Hogwarts but that hope was dashed.

He raised his glass, "To the Potters!" and all of Gryffindor echoed it. He said it again and this time the whole school uttered the toast. The teachers nodded approvingly. Prof. McGonagall had a tear in her eye.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Oh god please don't kill me! This chapter kicked my ass. I had to rewrite it. And I also had to go to my plot guru. He helped me with the over arching plot for this before and now I needed help on how to reveal certain things and we talked for about an hour and I took notes. But I shouldn't have anymore problems and thereby making it easier to update faster. So give a round of applause to KapitanLefty, my plot guru!**

Sherlock managed to brew the invisibility potion a couple days later. For something that was suppose to make him disappear, it sure was a murky liquid. But if Sherlock looked at it from the corner of his eye he could have sworn that it shimmered gold. He took it to John and they went to meet Martin's best friend. If anyone would know what his argument with Snape was over it would be Grady Cartwright.

Sherlock told John that he would only have an hour to get the information from the boy. John nodded, he would have to be his most charming. He just hoped that it would work on boys as well as it does on girls.

John watched as his best friend drank the awful looking liquid. Sherlock grimaced.

"It tastes about as good as it looks." Sherlock clutched his sides and about doubled over. John rushed over and just as he touched his friend's shoulder the boy disappeared. If John hadn't been touching him at the time he wouldn't have believed it.

"Are you alright?" John asked. He could hear heavy breathing coming from the direction of of his floating hand.

"I'm fine John. Now let's go find this Grady fellow." Sherlock's voice sounded, well smug.

John knew exactly where to go. He led the way to the quiddich pitch. Sherlock watched as his friend, who was usually carefree and jovial take on this quality of doggedness. His shoulders squared, his back ramrod straight and he walked with a purpose.

John scanned the bleachers and found who he was looking for. Grady was a tall gangly youth with mouse brown hair and eyes. He looked up when John's shadow crossed over him.

"Hey, you're Watson, right? You're our seeker?" he asked.

"Yep that's me. I just wanted come and commiserate. Martin was a good captain."

"He really was. He love the sport. He was even being scouted by the Harpies."

"Wow! I didn't even know. He must have been so excited." Sherlock kicked him. "Ow!"

"You okay?" Grady asked.

"Just a muscle strain I didn't stretch before practice."

"That's no good."

"Yeah, well I was running late this morning, over slept."

"You guys pick a new captain yet?" Sherlock kicked John again.

"Yeah. Jensen. Our new chaser is working out great too."

"That's good but that's not why you're here is it?"

John sighed. "Not really. I just want to catch the guy that did this. And it just seems that the aurors aren't doing enough. They haven't even found his body. I know with magic you can literately do anything to a body to hide it. Change it into something else, make it invisible and dozen other things that I can't even comprehend. I'm not stupid enough to go after the killer myself but I thought that if maybe I could find something they missed I could give it to someone so his parents won't have to worry anymore..."

Grady nodded. "So what do you need from me?"

"I have a couple questions. First off, do you know of anyone who had a grudge against him?"

"A grudge huh? Well there are couple of the Slytherin boys that were nasty but they don't like Gryffindors period. Um... just little shit stuff really nothing I can think of that would warrant killing a mate over."

"Did you know of any problems with was having at school or at home?"

"Home life was good. He was failing a couple of his classes."

"Okay, which classes?" Sherlock watched the exchange with a little bit of awe. John was doing well. Not as well he could have but a silly first year Ravenclaw would be brushed off with a laugh.

"Charms and potions." John looked up sharply and fought the urge to look to where he thought Sherlock was standing.

"God, that new potions master is beast. _I_ almost failed that class."

"More than that I think. I think Snape was failing him deliberately."

"Oh, what makes you say that?" Sherlock rubbed his hands eagerly. Now they were getting to the juicy bits.

"He was doing okay, you know not good or bad sliding along. But Snape kept failing him anyway. They had a big row about a week before Martin went missing. Martin threatened to have his big shot father get him canned. Apparently Snape laughed at him. Called his father a coward and a sneak."

"And this was a week before?" John asked.

"Yeah." He saw the look of concentration on John's face. "Why what's up?"

"He was seen having another row with Prof. Snape mere hours before he disappeared. You think it was about the same thing?"

Grady shrugged. "Could be. Martin knew that he was failing charms no doubt about that but he thought it unfair about Snape's treatment of him. He thought he should be at least skating by."

"Maybe that's the problem."

"What was?" Grady asked confused.

"That he was skating by. Snape seems like the passionate type maybe he thought Martin could do more and was trying to provoke him into doing better. Not the best method I'll grant you but a probable one."

Grady nodded.

"Anything else you can think of let me know, k? I want to catch this guy before he strikes again." John stood up and squeezed the older boy's shoulder. He walked down to the field and looked back up at Grady. The boy's shoulders slumped as though a cloak of exhaustion settled on him. He looked worn and sad.

"Sherlock?" John called out to the air around him. Sherlock looked at his friend a moment before answering.

"I'm here, John. That was well done. Especially the attribution of motive. What on earth made you think of that?"

"Hmm...? Oh... um... it was just something that popped in my head. The man's a bully but he loves potions. I just figured it sounded like something he'd do."

"Well, I have about fifteen minutes before it wears off. Let's head to boys bathroom so that it doesn't look like you are talking to yourself."

John nodded and walked off the direction of the boys bathroom, unsure if his friend followed him. He got inside and watched with an amused grin as the door to one of the stalls opened and closed on its own.

"Alright it's safe to talk now John."

"So what did we learn?"

"That Larson threatened Snape's job. A job that he not only _just _got but clearly enjoys. But is it enough for murder?"

"Looks like we need more information. When can you take more potion?" John asked through the door.

"Not tell tomorrow. It didn't sit well with me. I'm starting to see why people prefer cloaks to potions for this sort of thing." John nodded sympathetically.

"You do realize that I can't see you nod, right?"

John laughed. "Well clearly _you_ can if you knew I nodded."

"Nonsense John. I just know you too well."

"And how did that happen exactly, you've known me for a little more than two months."

"Tsk, tsk, John. As ever you see but you don't observe."

"And what is that suppose to mean anyway?" Sherlock stepped out of the stall, once again visible to his friend.

"That you look at a person and see the person. I look at person as see that they have calluses on their right hand indicating they are right handed. I see the mud on their shoes that say that it rained this morning on his way to work. I see the smudge on his sleeve that tells me he spilled his tea this morning. I see the flustered way he moves meaning he probably over slept and has had one mishap after another. I can also tell you that he wouldn't break easy in an interrogation." Sherlock smirked.

"Ok, and how would you know that last bit?" John folded his arms in front of him.

"Because the way he stands, holds himself, he may appear flustered but given right down to it, he's a smart man that holds himself superior to everyone else."

"Nice. For a hypothetical man." John teased. Sherlock shoved him.

"You know what I meant." John laughed.

The next day they went to go see probably Quincy's only friend in the whole school. Another third year named Tabitha Greenhall. It wasn't that others didn't try, he was just shy and he'd had known Tabitha since they were kids. Tabitha was more friendly and John turned on the Watson charm to the max.

He found her in the common room, Sherlock his ever companion, invisible yet again. She was sniffling in the corner. John pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her.

"Hey now," he murmured low. She took the handkerchief and nodded her thanks. It had only been a couple weeks since her loss and she was taking harder than Grady did.

"You want to talk about it?" John asked, a small smile gracing his lips. She wiped her tears and nodded.

"What's up?" John's voice was soft and understanding.

"It's just this whole thing with Quincy..." she was on the verge of tears.

"Was he being bullied?" John stayed caring, his voice smooth.

"I guess, a bit. The quiet ones always are." John smiled, thinking of Sherlock.

"Yeah. I've got a friend like that."

"That funny fellow, the one they call 'The Freak'?" she asked. John winced.

"He's not you know. No more than Quincy was." John felt his ire rise and fought it down. _Calm down there, Johnny boy. You need to get information out of her._

"Sorry. Sometimes we forget that just because they aren't like us, that that doesn't mean they don't have feelings. Quincy was a good kid."

"Did he have problems at home?" John murmured.

"Not really, not more than the next person I guess."

"I don't know, I'm the next person and even I have problems at home," John laughed. He winked at her and she gave a watery chuckle.

"What? The great Watson, seeker and all around nice guy has family problems? Say it ain't so!" John laughed but behind him he could feel Sherlock bristle at her suppose insult.

"So nothing but the usual teenage angst then?" John pressed.

"Not really. Of course Snape was just awful. I never thanked you for that by the way. I saw how you tried to ask if he was okay."

John blushed. "Oh, it was nothing. Anyone would have done the same." Sherlock smirked.

"And yet you were the only one who did." She smiled at him and he blushed a deeper set of red. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"How long had he been having troubles with Prof. Snape? I had my own run ins with him and really didn't notice how he dealt with others."

"Since the start of the year. He's dyslexic. Spells are fine because it's how you say them and how you wave your wand. Potions is different, you have to read the instructions. It looks like complete gibberish to him. But Snape thought it was just an excuse not to do the work."

"That's got to be hard. Did Quincy have any enemies? People who would want to hurt him. Especially that viciously?"

"God, I don't know."

"Okay, thanks." John stood up and he turned to leave but he stopped and flashed her a smile. "Hey you want to get a butterbeer together the next time we go into Hogsmead?"

She smiled, "Sure." John flashed her a toothy grin.

"Bye."

He led the way to the boys bathroom practically skipping. Sherlock pushed him and he stumbled into the wall.

"Hey!" John muttered looking around for the culprit. "Sherlock!" he called. He could hear his friend laugh somewhere in front of him. He chased his friend to the bathroom all the while Sherlock laughing in front of him.

"We didn't find out anything new!" Sherlock complained.

"Hey it wasn't a total loss. I got a date out of it." John winked. Sherlock huffed angrily.

"There's nothing for it. We're going to have to bait Snape."

"Bait him how?" John's eyebrows furrowed.

"It seems that pattern is that they are students having trouble in potions. So we use someone that is having trouble in potions to get him to make a mistake."

"Oh and who would that be?" John folded his arms.

Sherlock came into view like a Cheshire cat, grinning a wide toothy grin.

"Why, you, of course."


	8. Chapter 8

Sherlock knew his friend was very angry with him but he also knew that John would follow the plan. John ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. He was doing better in potions thanks to Sherlock's suggestions and had no desire to go back to being the class idiot. But if it stopped more kids from vanishing he'd have to do it.

Sherlock on the other hand was breezing through his potions class and while Snape was clearly wary of him since their encounter he had to grudgingly admit that Sherlock was the best at potions, he'd seen since... well since himself. Someone with a true affinity for the art.

Sherlock smirked to himself as he watched the potions master nod appreciatively at his finished potion. Not only had he finished first, he could tell that his was the best. The potion was suppose to be a bright fuchsia and smell like mint. Around him he was seeing shades of purple and red but not the right mix of the two and couple of smelled vile. He wasn't sure what it smelled like but mint certainly wasn't it.

So he sat back and watched his professor give cutting remarks and took away house points from those around him. It had been a couple days since they had started their plan and Sherlock was starting to get anxious. He was noticing a pattern that the attacks were happening once a month and it was nearing time for another attack. He didn't want another to die.

Everyone assumed he was cold and heartless. Well, maybe not John. John always saw more than he should. Sherlock did care that there were people dying but if he focused on the victims instead of the killer than there would be more deaths and he couldn't let that happen.

Their plan seemed to be working. Snape had focused all his aggression and frustration on poor John. Which made him make more mistakes, which in turn brought more attention from the potions master. He knew his friend was suffering.

"I'm sorry, John," Sherlock muttered. "It should be any day now and then these deaths will be stopped."

"What should be any day now?" Molly asked coming up behind them.

John sighed into his lunch. "You might as well tell her Sherlock, she won't let it go until you tell her."

Molly grinned at Sherlock, her heart fluttering just a bit when he smiled back.

"We're trying to catch the monster that's been prowling the halls of our dear school."

"Sherlock..." Molly said in a warning tone.

"Nothing has been done Molly. They still haven't found the bodies. No clues or anything else either. I know we're just kids but shouldn't we do something if we can?"

Molly sighed. "Alright, fine. Tell me what you've got so far."

Sherlock launched into his deduce mode as John called it, reciting facts and theories. Sherlock was more than a little hurt when Molly laughed at his supposition that Snape was killer.

"He's our only viable suspect at the moment." Sherlock sniffed.

"And a completely daft one." Molly told them.

"Why's that?" Sherlock huffed, clearly upset.

"Because for starters Martin's day is a blow hard. He has no power to toss out teachers here at Hogwarts. The only one allowed to hire and fire teachers at Hogwarts and that's the headmaster, who by all accounts trusts Snape with his life."

"Professor Dumbledore trusts him?" John asked.

"Apparently he turned turn coat just before the death of the Potters last week and Dumbledore had been fending off reports that Snape could have done this since Martin."

"Huh." John muttered. "What about Quincy then?" John asked while Sherlock was clearly sulking.

"That one's easy. At the time Quincy vanished Professor Snape was talking to me."

"What!" Sherlock yelled.

"Yeah. I left my potions book in his class and had to go back and get it. I started babbling my thanks and he stood there and listened until his next class appeared. I don't even know why didn't just send me off."

"Probably to establish an alibi and an air tight one too." Sherlock muttered darkly.

"A timeturner?" Sherlock suggested after a moment of silence.

"A what now?" John asked.

"Only the Ministry has them and they very heavily regulated. There is only six in existence and they have all of them." Molly told Sherlock, ignoring John's question.

Sherlock sighed and took pity on his friend and explained. "It's a time travel device. It can only go back a couple hours, though."

"But that's still long enough to prevent a crime or an accident." John protested.

"Messing with time is dangerous, John. There are all sorts of nasty things that could happen if you mess with time. That's why it's so heavily regulated."

"So Snape is not a suspect, then?" Sherlock asked despondently.

"I'm afraid not. Maybe there's another connection we aren't seeing. John, you're in Gryffindor. Is there another connection, we Ravenclaws aren't seeing?"

"I've gone over it in my head, over and over but I keep drawing a blank. Difference in ages, personalities, friends, home life. Other than their house I really can't see anything."

They all sighed. Molly patted John on the shoulder. "Look on the bright side. At least you don't have to deliberately fail potions anymore."

A mere couple days later, tragedy struck again. But it wasn't from the house of Gryffindor. But his own. She was a pretty red head that was in her final year of Hogwarts. She was the envy of her House, the brightest witch and sweet. It was hard to believe that anyone would want her dead. Sherlock knew he should have pressed harder trying to find a new suspect in time to save her but two months of work went up in smoke, with the laugh of an eleven year old girl.

They announced the finding of her body. This time they actually had a body to look at. The aurors that came to investigate looked at her with hard lines on their mouths and foreheads. Sherlock didn't understand as he watched them, his invisibility potion coming in use again.

He watched their methods and scoffed at the use of magic. He could have gathered the clues without it and he moaned as they trampled over everything. The pervious connection to the potions master had been ruled out, he had to start over. He went to the library instead. He went to the old copies of The Daily Prophet and began to search for the last names of the victims. They had to have some connection. He just had to find it.

He started ten years back and opened it up and began to read. He had only gotten to April of that year when Madame Pince caught him and threw him out. His bag and cloak chasing him out. His parchment and quill were still sitting on the table. Sherlock sighed. He knew he was on the right track but he needed time and for that _witch_ to not be an annoying git. He wasn't harming any of her precious books, he was just reading old papers, he wasn't even making the papers themselves. He had come up with a system where he would write the edition number page number and story headline. But no, that giant underfed vulture had to go and ruin everything. Now he'd have start over if she would even let her near them again.

He was forming a theory about why the students had been targeted but he still didn't have the who or the what.

"Sherlock," came the smooth voice behind him.

"Mycroft," he hissed.

"Really Sherlock," Mycroft said rolling, his eyes. "You aren't a cat, for crying out loud."

"Are you happy? If you had let me handle mummy my way, I wouldn't be stuck here for the holidays. But no and now she still won't answer my owls. So tell me _brother dear_ ARE YOU HAPPY?" Sherlock bellowed.

"I didn't think she would react that badly, Sherlock." Mycroft had the decency to look remorseful. "I knew she wasn't going to happy. She wanted both her sons in her old house but never did I think that she would go this far. There wasn't a single snide comment in that owl, I hope you know."

Hot tears stung Sherlock's eyes. "I even sent her owl hoping to sooth it over and get to her before you. Hell, I even risked House points and possible detention sneaking out to send that damn owl. Look at the good it did! I didn't even _ask_ to be put in Ravenclaw Mycroft. It hummed and hawed to be sure but chose to put me in that house."

"Ah but you didn't ask to be in Slytherin either," Mycroft hedged.

"I didn't demand _not _to be put in Slytherin either. It merely decided that my coldness and intellect was stronger than my cleverness and disregard for the rules. What did you want Mycroft?" Sherlock rubbed the side of his face in tired frustration.

"I saw your book bag and cloak chase you and was worried you were getting bullied again."

"No." Sherlock scowled. "Not unless you count the librarian as a bully."

"Madame Pince is not well liked, I'm afraid." Mycroft murmured.

"I left my notes in there when she chased me out." Sherlock gritted his teeth. "Would you get them for me please?" He hated to ask but this was far more important than owing Mycroft.

"Of course, brother." Mycroft said, with the air of someone who was use to getting his brother out of scraps. Mycroft sailed past him and Sherlock was struck on how much Mycroft reminded him of the potions master. Except the professor had this air of pain this past week, that Mycroft didn't. Sherlock wondered briefly if Snape had known the Potters but brushed the thought away as Mycroft came sailing back out.

"Here you go, Sherlock." Sherlock took his notes with huff and shoved them into his bag.

"Thanks."

"Why are you looking up the names Adams, Greenwich and Larson?" Mycroft asked, folding his arms over his chest.

Sherlock briefly thought about lying but Mycroft could always tell when he was lying. "The names of the victims, I swear I've heard them before but I can't place it."

"I believe mummy was complaining about an Adams once. Something about Uncle Cartwin."

"The one that's in Azkaban?" Sherlock asked. Mycroft nodded.

Sherlock sighed, there was something there. He could feel it. There was something eluding him.

"Sherlock?" Mycroft asked breaking into his train of thought. _Damn!_ Sherlock almost had it.

"It's nothing. I just wish I knew what the connection was."

"Sherlock, don't go looking for trouble. Please." Sherlock merely nodded and wandered off in search of John. _Wait. Mycroft could always tell he was lying. Did that mean he knew legilimency?_ Sherlock turned around and went running after his brother. This was a huge favor he knew he was asking and it might cost him in the long run but he needed that skill.

"Mycroft!" Sherlock shouted. Mycroft turned around, a faint look of surprise on face and fainter smile on his lips.

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"I've always wondered, how can you tell when I'm lying?"

Mycroft smiled broader. "You know very well, Sherlock."

"Would you teach me?" Sherlock looked down at the foot that was scuffing the floor.

"Why do you want to learn, Sherlock?" Sherlock just kept looked down, sheepishly. "Is this about your little case?" Sherlock nodded, his eyes never leaving the floor.

"I'm pretty good at guessing when they're lying. Basic tells but to actually _know_ would be far more useful."

"That's not always the case, there are those that practice occlumency."

"No but those are rare, aren't they?"

"Very. I could teach you that as well, if you wish." Mycroft asked.

Sherlock thought about it for a moment.

"No. Occlumency is fine and all but it would take a rather strong occlumencer to breach my thoughts and if they're that strong, they deserve to read my thoughts."

"Sherlock, that's not especially wise." Mycroft warned.

"When have I been wise, Mycroft?"

Mycroft laughed. "Tell me again, why you're in Ravenclaw brother dear." Sherlock smiled.


End file.
